


The Birdman of Atlantis

by Elayna



Series: Miracles [11]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: John needs to learn to stop testing Ancient devices for Rodney.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: Miracles [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/7629
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73





	The Birdman of Atlantis

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this fic in my LiveJournal back in 2007, before Dreamwidth existed, fully intending to post it to Wraithbait and Area 52 after more polishing and working on its sequels. It is 13 years later, Wraithbait and Area 52 no longer exist, and writing more in this subset of this universe is still an intention of mine. I think. Probably. But in the meantime, we're in a pandemic, everything is stressful, I'm obsessed with the use of wings in Lucifer, and I thought what the heck, I might as well post to AO3 for whatever amusement it gives McSheppers now. I figure we can all use whatever entertainment we can get, right? I re-read for typos and Seaward very nicely checked it over, but I didn't let myself start polishing anything else. I definitely could have! I still may. I completely reserve the right to rewrite this fic.

"Well…you always do like flying," Rodney said, and the statement was so disconnected to anything John knew was happening, he just stared. And then he tried to stand, but there was a heavy weight attached to his back, and he felt off-balance and stumbled. Rodney caught him, holding his arms supportively, staring around John's head and shoulders.

"Rodney, what the hell happened?" John turned his head seeing only a white cloud, feeling the weight dragging him down, and swung, trying to get a better view of what was wrong. But the white cloud swung with him, and he spun a few times until Rodney grabbed him and held him still.

"Jesus, John, you're like a dog chasing its tail. Calm down." 

"Calm down? Rodney, what the hell is on my back?" 

"Look, don't worry about it, okay? We'll…um…we'll get it taken care of somehow. Radek, can you call Carson?" 

And that was really scary, because Rodney called Carson for help with the kids all the damn time, but he knew how much John hated to go to the infirmary, and even helped nurse any minor cuts and bruises John received. 

"Rodney," John said warningly. 

"Look, it'll be fine, okay? Don't get yourself worked up. You've just…um…you've got wings." 

~~~~

So he had wings. John stared in the mirror that Carson had brought into the infirmary, seeing himself sitting on a hospital bed, black trousers, bare chest, black hair, white skin and big white wings that branched out from between his shoulders on each side of his body. Freaking *angel* wings. What the hell had the Ancients been thinking this time? In the mirror, he could see Rodney, Radek, and Carson arguing, but he tuned out their discussion. He didn't really care that Carson was scolding Rodney for being impulsive and careless with his experiments, he didn't care that Rodney and Radek were both in agreement (for once) that the whole wing-thing shouldn't have happened. He just wanted to know– "Guys. Guys! How about getting these off me now?"

The arguing broke off, though John was sure it would resume later. "Colonel, I'm not sure that we can do that," Carson said unhappily, coming to stand by John.

"Sure you can. Just cut them off." 

"The thing is, they've become a part of your muscular system. If I removed them, I'm afraid it would cause permanent damage to your back muscles." 

"How much?"

"Enough that it would impact your shoulders and arms." 

And that much damage…crap, he'd be a lot of use in a fight against the Wraith, wouldn't he? 

Rodney sat down by him, patting him on the leg. "John, Radek and I will go over the test results. We'll find a way to reverse this." 

"If we can," was Radek's pessimistic comment. "We don't even know how we caused it." 

"We will." Rodney's eyes could slice Radek in two. 

"Oh my–"

John glanced over to see Elizabeth hovering in the doorway, her mouth slightly agape. He shrugged. "I know. I look like an extra in an X-Men movie." 

Rodney contradicted him, his voice almost too soft for the others to hear. "I thought more like a model in a Victoria's Secret ad." 

"I am so not posing for you, McKay," he growled, though he was secretly pleased to see the little quiver Rodney's body gave, the spark of passion in his deeply blue eyes. 

Elizabeth stopped by the bed, still staring in wonder at John's wings. John had a feeling he was going to see that expression quite a lot until Rodney and Radek found a miracle cure for the mess they'd caused. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah. They feel heavy, is all. They're limp." He wiggled his shoulders, feeling the dead weight of the wings dragging him down. 

"Colonel, it might help if you think of it as if you've lost a limb and received a new prosthesis. Your muscles are blended into the wings, but you're not used to working them. You may have to conscientiously think to make them do anything." 

"I don't want them to do anything. I want them to go away." John gave pointed looks at both Rodney and Radek, who had the grace to look abashed, though Rodney's eyes still had a definite glint of desire. 

"Yes, but until they do, Doctor Saunders has done a lot of work with physical therapy. I'm sure she can help you adjust to them."

John made a face. Everyone knew how much he loved working with doctors. 

"If you want to be relieved of duty, John, I can ask Lorne to take over until this is resolved." A smile twitched around Elizabeth's lips, because she knew his response at the thought of lazing around while others were responsible for Atlantis. She was good at hardball. 

"I'll work with Doctor Saunders," he grumbled, before pointing his finger at his husband. "And you work on that device." 

~~~~

"Maybe I should go in first. Warn them."

John glared at Rodney and felt his wings flap once in irritation. "We've been over this kind of thing, Rodney." 

Rodney glared back at him. Funny, they'd been together for over three years now. They had kids and lots of sex and an astonishing number of moments that John would actually call "sweet," but they still managed to glare at each other frequently. Maybe they always would. Speaking stiffly, Rodney said, "I realize that you regard me as alarmist, that you don't want them to be constantly worrying about our lives, but this is a little different. This isn't Daddy being overly heroic again and getting himself banged up. This is Daddy walking in with great big wings attached…" Rodney's words trailed off, because he was staring at John's bare chest and wings. 

"You're drooling again. And they'll be fine. Kids are much more resilient than you want to believe." John walked past Rodney and into their quarters, calling for the twins. "Kathleen, Alexander." They were playing on the floor with Hector, but came running at his call. Kathleen held her arms out, instantly expecting to be picked up, Alexander hanging back a little because he always did. John scooped up both of them, bouncing them a bit to settle them comfortably in his arms, and grinned. 

"You have wings, Daddy," Kathleen announced. 

"Yeah. You want to touch?" He felt Alexander's little hands first, stroking along the top arch, then Kathleen touching the other side. He hadn't quite figured out why the two interacted as they did, but they were pretty consistent. Kathleen spoke first and acted braver; Alexander was always the one to take the first step or have the first bite. "Pretty cool, huh?" 

"Does it hurt?" Alexander asked, all serious.

"A little, at first," John said, because he tried really hard never to lie to them. "But it doesn't hurt now." He thought hard, trying to make the wings circle him to the front, but they would only curl slightly forward. Still, it was enough that when he twirled around the room, the kids must have felt like feathers surrounded them. Both of them were laughing, chubby little arms encircling his neck, and John thought sometimes his heart would break, they were so cute. Kathleen was going to be drop dead gorgeous with a killer smile when she grew up, but Alexander had Rodney's gleeful, sideways grin, and he loved them and Rodney more than he ever imagined he could. 

So far the twins seemed to have his constitution and sense of balance, but he stopped twirling after a few spins because he didn't want to overwhelm them. He took turns blowing raspberries in their necks, making them giggle and hug him harder, before looking up to see Rodney shaking his head at them with affection. 

"Wash your hands, kids. Time for dinner," Rodney ordered, and John squatted to release them. "You, stand up and stay still. Hector needs to measure you." 

At some point during the twirling, Rodney must have retrieved a few of his shirts from the bedroom, because Hector had them draped over one arm. "What's up?" he asked, as Hector whipped forward with the tape measure he seemed to perpetually carry and use at Rodney's every beck and call. 

"I'm going to modify some of your shirts, Colonel, so that you can put them on around your wings." 

"Like a halter top?" John asked somewhat dubiously. 

"I'm sure he'll make it look like a very macho halter top," Rodney offered. "Unless you'd prefer to keep flashing your hairy chest at everyone?" 

"Hey." John fluttered his wings. "Get rid of these and I won't have to." 

"I **will** ," Rodney insisted. "But in the meantime, you don't need to walk around half-naked." 

John just grinned and fluttered his wings, and watched Rodney gulp in response, which was immensely satisfying. 

~~~~

John padded into the bedroom, exhausted from the day, the whole freaky wing thing as well as the normal tasks of getting two energetic toddlers fed, entertained for a few hours, washed, dressed in jammies, and into bed. He took his watch off and laid it on the dresser, kicking off his shoes before reaching for his belt, and looked over to see Rodney standing by the door, staring at him with fascination. "What?" 

"Please." Rodney waved his hands. "Go on." 

John stepped away from the dresser, facing Rodney, undoing the belt buckle. "This really turns you on, doesn't it?"

Rodney nodded, his eyes fixed on John's hands, resting on John's belt. 

The button on his trousers came next, and then John waited again, amused and aroused at Rodney's intentness. 

"Please," Rodney asked again, plaintively this time. 

John pulled the zipper down, his pants hanging open, framing his blue boxers. Rodney's eyes roamed from John's underwear, up his chest, over the wings, and back down, never meeting John's eyes. "I never knew you had a wing fetish." 

"You have no idea how many teenage fantasies you're fulfilling."

"They didn't even have Victoria's Secret models when we were teens. Is this a comic book thing?" 

"John, _please_. Do we really need to discuss it?"

"I thought you liked to talk," John taunted, almost unbearably aroused. They both enjoyed sex a lot, had as much as their busy schedules and exhaustion allowed, but Rodney didn't usually look so starkly desperate. 

"The pants, John. Take off your pants." 

"I said I wasn't going to pose for you." 

"You don't have to pose. Just take off your pants and stand in your underwear," Rodney said hopefully, and now his eyes did meet John's, who couldn't deny the longing he saw there.

He toed off his socks first, then pushed his trousers down his legs, kicking them away, his hands on his hips. He thought about the wings, thought about them outstretched, felt the pull on his back muscles and heard the whisper in the air as they spread to each side. 

"Oh God." Rodney started stripping, practically ripping his clothes off. "Bed now, John. Get on the bed." He didn't even wait to see if John would obey his instruction, heading for the nightstand drawer that held the lube. 

"I thought if I took off my clothes for you, we were going to talk. Wasn't that the deal? I want to hear about these teenage fantasies of yours." 

Rodney was already lubing himself up, his hand working frantically on his dick. "Get on the bed and I'll show you." 

Walking over to the bed, John thought at the wings, made them beat once, twice. "What's the fantasy, Rodney? You want me on my front or back?"

"Hands. Knees. Now would be good. Please." 

John slid his boxers off his hips, stepping out of them, and positioned himself on the bed. Rodney was instantly there, crawling between his legs, one slicked finger thrusting into John's ass. The lack of finesse burned a little, but it was a good burn. "How do you want the wings, Rodney? You like them spread? Or you want them folded?" John had to think hard, pictured the wings folding back and angled away from his body so that they came to rest on Rodney's back, enfolding him in white feathers. 

"Oh God," Rodney whimpered again, and shoved another finger in, stretching John with a mad intensity. Then Rodney was kissing John's back, his tongue lapping at the connection where skin and muscle surged out of John's back to become covered by feathers. And Christ, oh Christ, John thought his head would explode. Nothing on his body had ever felt that erogenous, not even his dick. He panted frantically, aware that he was suddenly, fully erect, and shoved his hips back into Rodney's hand. 

"You like that? You like being touched there?" 

Now John begged, unabashedly. "Christ, yes. Please, Rodney. Fuck me." 

Rodney's fingers left John's body, the barren sensation immediately filled by his solid dick, nice and thick and long. Rodney's hands groped around John's chest, one moving down to find and clasp his dick, the other flicking at his nipples, while his hips rolled and thrust, shoving into John, his lips and tongue never stopping their exploration of John's back, of John's wings. "Are you going to pose for me, John? Will you pose next time?"

"YES!" John yelled, willing to promise anything, his body shaking, the sensations washing through him, from his fingertips to his toes, and out to the very tips of his wings, which spread away from his body, stretched out as he came hard, his come shooting onto the sheets. He collapsed forward, his head buried in the pillow, bringing his wings back to rest over Rodney as he felt the other man thrust two more times, finding his own release with a low groan, his arms squeezing John in a tight hug. 

Wow. If that was normal wing sex, Rodney's teenage fantasies didn't seem quite so nutty anymore. 

~~~

John paced the pier, thinking about his wings. Stretch out, full wingspan to the side, raise up, stretch forward, pull them back in, tucking close to his back. He felt like he was in a gym, working with weights, mindlessly doing repetitions, concentrating only on his body, on his muscles, the exercise giving his body that good burning-tired sensation. 

"Sheppard," Ronon said laconically. 

"Hey," was John's equally understated response as he turned to look at the other man. Fido was at his side. 

"What's up?" 

"I need to know I can fight with these damn things." Ideally, this condition would be reversed, oh, today would be good, but John had learned not to count on everything working out perfectly in the Pegasus Galaxy. His team was off missions for now, but that didn't mean that something catastrophic wouldn't happen in Atlantis before Rodney and Radek made the Ancient technology reverse his condition. He needed to be ready to protect Atlantis, his people and his family. 

"Sure. What do you want?"

"Start slow and keep going." John wasn't entirely sure that Ronon understood the concept of 'slow' in fighting, but the bigger man proved he could manage to tone down marginally. Punch, block, counterpunch, kick…they traded blows, some open-handed, others with closed fists, attacking and defending, moving back and forth across the pier, light and easy on their feet. 

The wings were weird but not too bad, John decided. He kept them tucked along his back mostly. They weren't long enough for the ends to interfere with the movement of his legs. They brushed occasionally against his arms, but the sensation wasn't too distracting. 

And then Ronon attacked more aggressively, trying to take John down, and John realized he was hovering in the air, out of Ronon's reach, his wings flapping steadily. He stared down–down–at Ronon, and his wings stopped beating. Fido barked twice, apparently agreeing with John's surprise. He fell, landing painfully on his hands and knees. 

"You can fly," Ronon said. 

"Yeah." Christ, he could fly, really fly. 

~~~

John stood by the device hooked up the console, surprisingly nervous. It hadn't hurt much the last time, a blue glow and then a sudden pain in his back like a really bad charley horse, and he'd experienced plenty of those in his life. Then a wave of dizziness, the sound of his shirt tearing, and he'd toppled over, to be helped up by Rodney and learn he'd grown wings. 

How bad could losing them be? Another charley horse and he'd be back to normal. A few minutes and it would all be over. 

Giving a reassuring smile to the others who'd come to watch–Elizabeth, Carson, Teyla and Ronon–he nodded his readiness to Rodney and Radek, watching as they played the Ancient controls like their own personal synthesizers. The blue glow spread around him and then without planning, he started shrieking, because this wasn't a charley horse, this was every single cell of his body being ripped apart, painfully and brutally. He was pounding on the thighs, begging for it to stop, unable to move out of the blue glow, and Rodney looked absolutely horrified as he slammed his hands on the panels, the blueness rapidly fading. 

Falling as his legs refused to support him, John found himself caught in Rodney's arms, who staggered under his weight and sat down on the floor, cradling John and petting him. Ronon hovered on one side, making sure Rodney had him well supported. 

"John. John! Talk to me. Are you okay? What happened?"

Burrowing his face into Rodney's chest, John gulped hard, trying to get himself under control to respond. "That hurt." He knew he must sound more immature than one of the twins but jeez–that had hurt. 

"I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened like that." 

"Did it?" John fluttered his wings, which were still there, answering his question. 

Carson knelt to take John's pulse but the rest hung back, their concern clear. 

"No, they look unaffected." Rodney heaved a sigh, and John could see his frustration. Rodney hated to be defeated in any scientific endeavor. 

Radek started to speak, but John waved a hand, cutting him off. "Look, tell you what. You guys go back to the drawing board. Take your time. Take three months. And when you've got it all figured out, let me know, and we'll give this another try." John staggered to his feet because damn it, he was Atlantis's military commander, and even in front of his most trusted friends, he couldn't stay hunkered in his husband's lap. 

Carson gave him space to stand and looked concerned but not too stressed, so his pulse must have been tolerable. Rodney rose with him, his hands supportively resting on John's torso. "Three months?" he asked blankly. 

"We're scheduled for a trip home, remember? I don't want to explain this to your sister." He sought acceptance from Elizabeth with a glance, and she gave a little smile. 

"If you're comfortable…?" 

"Yeah." He made the wings give a few beats. "I'm fine. Come on," he said, pulling on Carson and Elizabeth, smiling at the others to include them, "Let's go see if I can carry someone." 

Radek gave a rueful smile and a wave while Rodney snorted, before the two hunched over the controls, the rest allowing themselves to be guided toward the closest door to the outside. 

So he had wings for a while. So what? It wasn't like it was the weirdest thing that had happened to them. He'd have some fun flying while he could. He knew Rodney would figure it out. 

~ the end ~


End file.
